"About your hotels in London, Mr Swinton. Of course we'll have to stop at an hotel. Which do you consider the best?"

"Clawndon, of cawse. Clawndon, in Bond Stweet. Ba all means go there, madam."

"The Clarendon," said Mrs Girdwood, taking out her card-case, and pencilling the name upon a card. "Bond Street, you say?"

"Bond Stweet. It's our fashionable pwomenade, or rather the stweet where our best twadesmen have their shops."

"We shall go there," said Mrs Girdwood, registering the address, and returning the card-case to her reticule.

It is not necessary to detail the conversation that followed. It is usually insipid over a dinner-table where the guests are strange to one another; and Mrs Girdwood's guests came under this category.

For all that, everything went well and even cheerfully, Julia alone at times looking a little abstracted, and so causing some slight chagrin both to Lucas and Swinton.

Now and then, however, each had a glance from those bistre-coloured eyes, that flattered them with hopes for the future.

They were dread, dangerous eyes, those of Julia Girdwood. Their glances had come near disturbing the peace of mind of a man as little susceptible as either Louis Lucas or Richard Swinton.

The dinner-party was over; the trio of gentlemen guests were taking their departure.

"When may we expect you in England, my lord?" asked the hostess, speaking to Mr Swinton apart.

"By the next steamaw, madam. I wegwet I shall not have the pleasyaw of being your fellaw passengaw. I am detained in this countwy by a twifle of business, in connection with the Bwitish Government. A gweat baw it is, but I cannot escape it."

"I am sorry," answered Mrs Girdwood. "It would have been so pleasant for us to have had your company on the voyage. And my girls too, I'm sure they would have liked it exceedingly. But I hope we'll see you on the other side."

"Undoubtedly, madam. Indeed, I should be vewy misewable to think we were not to meet again. You go diwect to London, of cawse. How long do you pwopose wemaining there?"

"Oh, a long time--perhaps all the winter. After that we will go up the Rhine--to Vienna, Paris, Italy. We intend making the usual tour."

"You say you will stop at the Clawndon?"

"We intend so, since you recommend it. We shall be there as long as we remain in London."

"I shall take the libawty of pwesenting my wespects to you, as soon as I weach England."

"My lord! we shall look for you."

The drawing-room door was closed, the ladies remaining inside. The three gentlemen guests were in the entrance hall, footman and butler helping them to hat and surtout. Though they had not come in, all three went out together.

"Where now?" asked Lucas, as they stood upon the flags of the Fifth Avenue. "It's too early to go to bed."

"A vewy sensible obsawvation, fwiend Lucas!" said Swinton, inspired by a free potation of the widow's choice wines. "Where do yaw say?"

"Well, I say, let's have some sport. Have you got any money upon you, Mr Swinton?"

Mr Lucas was still ignorant that his companion was a lord.

"Oh, yas--yas. A thousand of your demmed dollars, I believe."

"Excuse me for putting the question. I only asked in case you might require a stake. If you do, my little pile's at your service."

"Thanks--thanks! I'm weady for spawt--stake all pawvided."

Lucas led the way, from the Fifth Avenue to Broadway, and down Broadway to a "hell;" one of those snug little establishments in an off-street, with supper set out, to be eaten only by the initiated.

Swinton became one of them. Lucas had reasons for introducing him. His reflections were:

"This Englishman appears to have money--more than he knows what to do with. But he didn't drop any of it in Newport. On the contrary, he must have increased his capital by the plucking of certain pigeons to whom I introduced him. I'm curious to see how he'll get along with the hawks. He's among them now."

The introducer of Swinton had an additional reflection suggested by the remembrance of Julia Girdwood.

"I hope they'll get his dollars--clear him out, the cur--and serve him right too. I believe he's a devilish schemer." The wish had jealousy for its basis.

Before the gambler proclaimed his bank closed for the night, the false friend saw the realisation of his hopes.

Despite his customary astuteness, the ex-guardsman was not cunning in his cups. The free supper, with its cheap champagne, had reduced him to a condition of innocence resembling the pigeons he was so fain to pluck, and he left the hawks' nest without a dollar in his pocket!

Lucas lent him one to pay for the hack that carried him to his hotel; and thus the two parted!

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

ELJEN KOSSUTH!

An autumn sun was just rising over the plains of the yellow Theiss, when two travellers, issuing from the gates of the old fortified city of Arad, took their way toward the village of Vilagos, some twenty miles distant.

It is scarce necessary to say they were on horseback. Men do not journey afoot on the plains of the "Puszta."

Their military costume was in keeping with the scene around. Not as it would have been in its normal and usual state, with the _ihaz_ quietly attending his swine drove, and the _csiko_ galloping after his half-wild colts and cattle. For Arad was now the headquarters of the Hungarian army, and the roads around it hourly echoed the tread of the Honved, and hoofstroke of the hussar.

The patriot force of less than thirty thousand men had moved upon Vilagos, there to meet the Austro-Russian advance, of just four times their number; Georgei the commanding general on one side, and Rudiger on the other.

The two horsemen had reached Arad but the night before, coming from the West. They had arrived too late to go out with the patriot troops, and seemed now hurrying on to overtake them.

Though in uniform, as we have already said, it was not that belonging to any branch of the Hungarian service. No more did it resemble any one of the varied military costumes worn by the allied enemy. Both were habited very much alike; in simple undress frocks of dark-blue cloth, with gold-lace pantaloons of brighter blue, and banded forage-caps.

With Colt's revolver pistols--then an arm scarce known--worn in a holstered waistbelt, steel sabres hanging handy against their thighs, and short Jager rifles slung, _en bandolier_; behind them, the dress looked warlike enough; and, on whatever side, it was evident the two travellers intended fighting.

This was further manifest from their anxious glances cast ahead, and the way they pressed their horses forward, as if fearing to be too late for the field.

They were of different ages; one over forty, the other about twenty-five.

"I don't like the look of things about Arad," said the elder, as they checked up for a time, to breathe their horses.

"Why, Count?" asked his companion.